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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24475717">Modern Magic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/horseboneologist/pseuds/horseboneologist'>horseboneologist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bickering, Dirty Talk, Embarrassing Angels, Is it really love if you don't laugh in your husband's face?, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Service Submission, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Married to a Magician</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:41:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24475717</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/horseboneologist/pseuds/horseboneologist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Take that moustache off and I’ll make it worth your while,” he tried.</p>
<p>“Mmm, I don’t think I will. I think you secretly like it,” Aziraphale murmured against him.</p>
<p>“You’re horrendously, tragically mistaken.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Promptposal</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Modern Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/overwhelmingly_awesome/gifts">overwhelmingly_awesome</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here is my Senior Prom gift for the dashing overwhelmingly_awesome!  Their prompt was "A fic or art with Aziraphale and Crowley please! One of them tries to seduce the other, and it goes really, really well. They could be already together, or not yet together, but it's the basic "teasing/seducing then fucking" scenario."</p>
<p>I am only mildly terrified to post my first-ever smut as a gift fic, but hey, fear makes life worth living, right?  Something like that.</p>
<p>Please forgive my mistakes, as I am a freshly minted author and I can never compete with all the pros in this fandom.  Also, I have no beta, so any erreurs are mine and mine alone.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley did not look up from his phone as Aziraphale crunched down the drive toward the car. He did not return Aziraphale’s cheery wave, nor did he attempt to help his husband wrangle the rolling pedestal, still laden with paraphernalia touting “The Amazing Mr. Fell,” into the boot of the Bentley. Crowley didn’t even respond when Aziraphale slid into the passenger seat and leaned over to buss him on the cheek, save to set aside his mobile and turn the key in the ignition.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled out of the estate’s property and glared at the road in silence. Aziraphale had even revived that stupid little pencil moustache for his magic show. Retirement was supposed to be about relaxing, getting comfortable with each other and the change in their relationship. He was completely satisfied with his garden, cooking food for his husband, and dragging the angel down onto the couch for a good cuddle in front of the television. And the sex. That was quite the rage between the two of them these days. But Aziraphale had picked up this… </span>
  <em>
    <span>compulsion</span>
  </em>
  <span> to drag out his old magic act and “integrate with the locals.” Crowley scoffed. Next to him, Aziraphale let out a little laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They made it nearly all the way home before Aziraphale’s happy fidgeting proved too obnoxious to ignore. Finally, Crowley glanced at his husband. Aziraphale was still grinning contentedly, watching the countryside speed past his window. He was supremely, offensively unperturbed by the demon’s stony silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley heaved a sigh. “How was it, angel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, Crowley, it was just delightful. The show went off without a hitch - well, there was a bit of a to-do with the doves, but I was able to recapture most of them - and it was all </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of senior centers before now, they’re so receptive to my kind of entertainment. I know you’re not a fan of my alter-ego, dear, but if you ever actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>came</span>
  </em>
  <span> to one of my shows I promise you’d enjoy it. I’m telling you, I’ve made some serious improvements to my technique and I think you’d be impressed -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s never going to happen, stop asking. And angel, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for the love of all that is profane, don’t call it your </span>
  <em>
    <span>alter-ego</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s bad enough that you have a magic show,” Crowley spat the words, “without personifying your, eh, your persona. Whatever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Amazing Mr. Fell is a carefully curated, well researched -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>research</span>
  </em>
  <span> -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“- and </span>
  <em>
    <span>delightfully entertaining</span>
  </em>
  <span> magical personality! He’s a rising star, just you wait and see. I’ll be performing as far away as Brighton before you know it,” Aziraphale said smugly. The Bentley pulled into their driveway and Crowley killed the engine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s only 30 minutes from here, angel. And anyway, that’s not the point. The point is - the point is, I don’t want you bringing this magic show home. You promised me, no pencil moustache in the house.” Crowley pointed accusingly at the little black curl on Aziraphale’s lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “We’re not even in the house yet, we’re in the car.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This car is practically my home!” Crowley crowed, kicking his door open. “And don’t split hairs! </span>
  <span>And grow a real moustache if you want, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. Fell</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I cannot abide this,” he waggled his fingers in the angel’s face, “atrocity.” He snapped the door shut on Aziraphale’s laughter and marched into the house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you imagine?” Aziraphale called after him, climbing out of the car. “Would you like that? I believe I could, you know! Do you think maybe a handlebar? Or a goatee!” He cackled to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley could still hear him laughing as he ran the tap in the kitchen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At least someone thinks he’s funny,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Crowley thought. He grabbed a tea towel, dabbed it under the warm water, and turned around to see his darling husband, light of his life, the man he somehow agreed to marry, to live with, to stake his </span>
  <em>
    <span>reputation</span>
  </em>
  <span> on, dragging the blessed mobile magician station across their entryway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Angel.” Crowley stalked forward and snagged him by the cravat. “Please.” He held out the towel. Aziraphale chuckled and tilted his chin up expectantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no, this is your mess, you clean it up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale attempted a pout. The effect was somewhat ruined by the mirth in his eyes. He stepped closer and slipped his arms around Crowley’s waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, absolutely not. I’m not rewarding this behavior.” Crowley glared at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale took the warm cloth from him and set it aside. Ignoring Crowley’s protests, he leaned up and kissed the demon lightly on the corner of the mouth. He pulled back and smiled, all sweetness and innocence and wide blue eyes. Crowley heaved a deeply aggrieved sigh. The angel leaned back in and kissed him again, slowly, slowly. He coaxed Crowley’s mouth open, slipped his tongue inside. Crowley let his eyes fall closed. He wound his arms over Aziraphale’s shoulders. Relaxing into the kiss, he marveled that he would never grow tired of feeling Aziraphale’s smile against him. There were still mornings, even now, when he kept his eyes closed upon waking, lying still, breathing slowly, lest he shake himself from this blissful dream of an angel in his bed. More often, though, Crowley would come awake curled around Aziraphale’s back, or tucked against his chest, hair tickling Aziraphale’s chin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some mornings, Crowley’s favorites, he’d wake to Aziraphale’s hands on him. To Aziraphale running his palm flat along Crowley’s bare flank, or to his fingers trailing lightly up the underside of Crowley’s cock. On one extraordinary occasion he’d awoken to Aziraphales mouth, sweet and hot and gorgeously tight around him. Their kiss was getting deeper, more rhythmic. He closed his teeth playfully on the tip of Aziraphale’s tongue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale huffed a laugh against his lips. “Is there something else you want, Crowley?” He pulled Crowley closer, pressing the demon’s hips against his own. Crowley grunted and ducked down for another kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take that moustache off and I’ll make it worth your while,” he tried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm, I don’t think I will. I think you secretly like it,” Aziraphale murmured against him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re horrendously, tragically mistaken.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale chuckled. “I think you want me enough that you’ll take whatever I give you, moustache or no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, angel, no.” Crowley tucked his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. “Don’t be cruel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you’ll get down on your knees for me if I ask you to.” Crowley could still hear the smile in his husband’s voice. “You’ll take me in your mouth, taste every drop of me, and thank me for it.” Crowley groaned, pushing the hardening length of himself against Aziraphale. “I think you want to make me feel good. Do you, love? Do you want to make me happy? Do you want to please me?” Crowley nodded against Aziraphale’s jaw. He smelled so good. His voice was low, pleasant and soothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to hear you say it, darling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley swallowed. “I want to make you feel good, angel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Aziraphale hummed. “Tell me you want to go down on your knees for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to get on my knees for you, angel. And I want you to get rid of that stupid moustache.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hush.” Aziraphale grabbed a lock of Crowley’s hair and pulled sharply. Crowley shook, pressed his erection harder against Aziraphale. “Tell me you want to suck my cock, Crowley.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck, angel, I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to suck your </span>
  <em>
    <span>cock</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Crowley pushed Aziraphale backwards, crowded him against the wall, and crushed their mouths together. Aziraphale wound his fist into Crowley’s hair and tugged again, pulling him back, forcing him to slow, ignoring his growl of frustration. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay. Fine.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gently this time, Crowley pressed forward, shivering at the pain in his scalp, flitting his tongue against Aziraphale’s, teasing. Aziraphale moaned and opened for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley lost himself in his angel. He tucked a hand up under Aziraphale’s waistcoat, slipping his fingers between the buttons of his shirt to trail lightly through the hair dusting Aziraphale’s belly. He snuck another hand around to cup Aziraphale’s round arse through his trousers, feeling the sweet give of him under his fingertips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, just like this. Easy. You like doing what you’re told, Crowley.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley moaned. “Yesssss. Fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take off your shirt for me, dear.” Aziraphale released his hold on Crowley and leaned back against the wall, eying him steadily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley whipped his shirt over his head, catching his glasses and pulling them askew. He tossed both aside. Aziraphale smiled sweetly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shoes off, please.” Crowley kicked away one boot, then hopped one-footed to yank the other off and drop it on the floor with his shirt. Aziraphale smirked as Crowley struggled, but he didn’t care. He waited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On your knees, dear, and come closer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley dropped to the floor and shuffled forward, gazing up at Aziraphale, who reached down and gently guided Crowley’s head to rest against the fly of his trousers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sweetheart, just like this. Will you hold still for me?” Crowley hummed in assent, leaning into the heat of Aziraphale’s body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The angel trailed his fingers through Crowley’s hair once more and curled them against his scalp. The light scratch sent tingles down Crowley’s neck. He inhaled deeply, taking in his scent as Aziraphale held him close, pressed Crowley’s cheek against the hardening length of his cock. Slowly, deliberately, he rolled his hips. Crowley moaned and steadied himself, gripping his knees tightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay where you are, but take yourself out for me, darling.” Aziraphale continued to grind his clothed cock against Crowley’s face. Crowley’s eyes rolled back in his head and he reached down, hands shaking, to unzip his trousers. He was completely hard, aching now, wet at the tip. His hand hovered gingerly over himself, not touching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very good. Very good. Don’t touch until you’re told. You’re doing so well.” Crowley’s cock twitched, bumping against his palm. He pulled his hand away, careful.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“That’s exactly right. Are you ready for me, love? Do you want me in your mouth?” Aziraphale’s voice was reaching him through a haze. The rasp of fabric against his cheek, the overwhelming scent of his desire subsumed Crowley in a fog of lust. All he could do was nod and press his open mouth against the hard line of Aziraphale. He watched, heavy-lidded, as Aziraphale’s hand</span> <span>popped the button on his fly. Aziraphale’s movements were unhurried, confident. The grip in his hair pulled him to the side, pressed him against Aziraphale’s hip. A line of saliva stretched from his lip to the cotton. Crowley sat patiently, one hand still raised above his own rigid sex. His eyes followed the deft gesture of Aziraphale’s fingers as he unzipped himself, hooked his thumb under the fabric, and dragged it down to reveal his cock, swollen and reddened. It bobbed an inch in front of Crowley’s nose, and his mouth watered. He wanted to taste it, but he kept still.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s fingers wrapped around himself and stroked languidly. He let out a deep sigh and leaned back against the wall, letting his knees fall wide. Crowley tracked his angel’s movements, watching the drag of his skin, the spread of wetness on the head of his cock. It was thicker than Crowley’s, thick enough to make his jaw ache and make his voice raw. His breath hitched as Aziraphale shifted him again, guiding him forward. He let his mouth open wider, let Aziraphale press the wide head of himself onto his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep your mouth open for me, dear. I want to watch.” Crowley raised his eyes to Aziraphale’s. He studied the dig of white teeth against pink lip and the grit of stubble along a soft jawline. He memorized the way Aziraphale’s eyebrows drew together as he pushed in, the worry-line between them, the asymmetry of his pleasure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale let himself press heavily into Crowley’s throat, and Crowley opened for him. He spread his jaw as wide as he could and held his tongue forward, out of his mouth. The drag in his throat made him gag, but his eyes never left the angel’s. Aziraphale rolled his hips again, holding Crowley’s head in place, and Crowley was throbbing and dribbling a mess down onto his black jeans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time started to go a bit hazy. Crowley could focus only on the sensations of Aziraphale’s body against his. He felt like he was floating, tethered only to his angel, feeling the push and drag and grip of him. The slick pop as Aziraphale’s cock pulled out of his throat. The jerking clench of his muscles as it was pushed back in. His eyes were watering and his nose was leaking and he could feel drool running down his chin, but Aziraphale didn’t stop, didn’t look away, so Crowley kept still. His jaw ached and his throat was tight and terribly sore, and Aziraphale was speeding up. He could see the sheen of sweat on his angel’s forehead and could smell it in the curls of blonde hair at the base of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale was breathing heavily now, pressing his shoulders harder against the wall as he pumped his hips forward. “I want you to touch yourself, Crowley. Do that for me. One hand - one hand under your balls, yes, like that, and I want -” he leaned his head back, gasped, “I want the other on the head of your cock. Hold yourself tight, like I do, and - and - make little circles with your th-thumb. Can you do that? Will you?” He was panting, gripping Crowley’s hair painfully tight. Crowley moaned wetly and did as he was told. The pleasure of his own grip was sharp, overwhelming, overstimulating, but he didn’t stop. Too soon he was pressing upwards into his fist, twitching forward, riding the spreading wave of sweetness as it washed out from his core, feeling the tightening in his thighs and belly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fff</span>
  </em>
  <span>-mmm, Crowley, I want you to come with - with my cock in your mouth. Come for me, do it, do it, do it now.” Aziraphale circled his hips, pressed himself all the way down Crowley’s throat and stayed there, shifting tightly back and forth. He ground Crowley’s nose into his coarse pubic hair. Crowley felt Aziraphale’s balls drawn up high, bouncing against his chin and the tip of his outstretched tongue. The sharp core of pleasure in his pelvis seemed to collapse in on itself, rising, rising, before rushing out to his fingertips, his toes, the roots of his fucking molars. He couldn’t breathe, tears were streaming down his face, he couldn’t move, and he was coming, coming, spasming forward into his tight fist, spilling over his hand and down onto his thighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale swore and thrust harshly, locking himself down Crowley’s throat, and his whole body jerked as he came. His breath came in gasps, loud and slow, and he held Crowley against him for a long moment. He was shaking, pulsing. Finally, Crowley choked, and Aziraphale pulled back to rest his softening cock against his tongue. He didn’t seem to mind Crowley’s coughing, wet gulps of air around him. After a minute, his knees bent further and he slid down the wall, slipping out of Crowley’s mouth as he sat heavily on the floor. He dragged Crowley in for a kiss, deep and sloppy and careless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley melted against him. He could feel the sweat cooling on his back and under his arms. His heart was racing, and he grinned so wide that his teeth clacked against Aziraphale’s. The angel laughed breathlessly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a wonder. An absolute marvel. I’ll never get over you, Crowley. I’ll never get over this.” Aziraphale pressed smiling kisses across his cheekbones, over the bridge of his nose, on his damp temple.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Angel, you know I love you.” Crowley breathed. He caught Aziraphale’s gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I know, Crowley.” Aziraphale beamed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you love me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Without reservation.” The worry line was back between Aziraphale’s eyebrows. His smile was earnest and open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then wipe that fucking fake moustache off of your face or I’m filing for divorce.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aziraphale laughed and pulled Crowley into a hug. “Certainly, dear. Whatever you like.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Is this all a ploy to get Crowley to come to one of his shows? Maybe.</p>
<p>Is Aziraphale training Crowley to have a Pavlovian response to his magician's outfit? Almost certainly not.</p>
<p>Did I have to try so, so, so hard not to name this fic the Amazing Mr. Swell? Absolutely yes. But I couldn't figure out how to make Aziraphale draw a pencil moustache over his dick, so it didn't happen. Missed opportunities, and all that.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>If you want to read an extraordinarily gorgeous and beautifully sweet fic, check out overwhelmingly_awesome's gift <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24475774/chapters/59073943#workskin">Flashing Lights</a>.  It ruined me.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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